AprilMay Fanfic Contest: Apple Blossoms
by OstentatiousNature
Summary: No restrictions except it must be written in the time period of "PRE-TWILIGHT" Deadline May 31st. Details inside. WINNERS NOW UP
1. Chapter 1

April-May 2009 Twilight Fan Fiction Contest:

**APPLE BLOSSOMS**

Hosted by: _FeelBetterBoy'sGF-JasperLuv-_

**Okay, here are the things you need to know!**

Series: Twilight (obviously) (MUST BE BASED ON THE BOOK NOT THE MOVIE)

Fan Fiction Type: One-shot.

This is a contest for all PRE-TWILIGHT fics. No restrictions on characters or POV, except it must take place ANYTIME before the moment Bella first crosses paths with any of the Cullens.

IT MUST BE PRE-TWILIGHT.

(Can even be Bella Pre-Twilight. Get creative with character choices and situations!)

Get it? Apple Blossom? (yah, I'm an idiot ^_^)

I hope this gives everyone the chance to be super creative!

Length: Must be more than 1000 words, but please, no novel sized one shot entries. I won't have time to read everyone's! If you need it to be a little lengthy to make it the best it can be, feel free, but please be reasonable and considerate.

Rating: Any rating is acceptable. Lemons are accepted but not suggested.

Send Entries To: (I'm spelling it out so it will show up for you guys--email addresses disappear when you try to put them in)

jasper underscore holic at yahoo dot com (and there are no spaces)

Subject Line: Apple Blossom Contest "Your Story Title Here" By: Your Pen Name

Deadline: Midnight, May 31st

Check back to this story _(I suggest you bookmark the page)_ around the first two weeks of June to see the winners (it will be chapter 2). I will try to get the results up faster this time, lol!

Extra Tip: Creative character POV choices and unique setting times always get you more points ^_^ -wink-

I'm looking forward to all the entries.

BE CREATIVE AND HAVE FUN!


	2. 3rd Place: SteneMichele

**3rd Place** – _GIVE ME ONE REASON_

By: SteneMichele

**Contest Host Review:**

Wow. Renee's POV. How interesting of a choice. Most people tend to focus on the vampires and the werewolves and the supernatural, so it's nice to see someone focusing on the human. How SteneMichele shows Renee's uncertainty and fear and anxiety about her decisions and life choices, really gets down to the core of being human, which is something that is highly debated in the Twilight series, no? So I really think along with the wonderful though process and extreme in character-ness, SteneMichele really got to the raw emotions behind the events, which was wonderful.

Congratulations SteneMichele!!!

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Give Me One Reason

By:SteneMichele

It was late. Almost dawn, but I couldn't bring myself to wait until the morning. He would persuade me to stay again, and I was much too vulnerable to risk that. Not that he had ever _said _anything to influence my decision. It was his smile, combined with the chocolate-brown gleam in his eyes... They never failed to melt my heart.

And the look in his eyes when he would realize what I had done… Well, I was relying on the fact that I wouldn't be here to see it. Still, it would have been so comforting to crawl next to my dormant husband and demand that he give me one reason to stay. Surely that would do it… I was so weak.

My mother had been right all along. My father, too, though he was never as outspoken about Charlie and I, let alone our premature marriage. But they had regained some trust in me when I had become a mother. And now I would betray that trust all over again.

I spared myself a glance in the mirror, only for the sake of the taxi driver and the poor people on the plane that would have to look at me.

I had been pretty. Last year, last month even. But now I had untimely crow's feet and my blue eyes had lost their twinkle. I had fallen out of love, or perhaps I had never even been _in _love to begin with. No- I couldn't let myself think that. I had loved Charlie. I had loved him with all my heart. There was no denying that.

"May-mah." The small voice sent shivers down my spine, and I jumped almost two feet into the air.

She had gotten out of her crib, again; my Bella was smart beyond her years. My eyes met hers in a moment of understanding. She was such an easy child, never hungry and never temperamental. I never understood where she came from. I was always frazzled and hare-brained. Charlie was slightly more laidback than I was, but not enough to create such a loving, mature baby.

"Bells," I whispered, my voice cracking as I said her name, "Sweetie, it's bed time." Though my 10-month-old daughter was much too young to understand my words, there was something in her eyes that told me she knew what was happening.

This was a complication that I had not given much thought. For me, it had been a given that Charlie would raise our daughter. He could provide her with a nice, consistent life here in Forks. Charlie was a good father; he was more than capable of taking care of Bella. It's not that I didn't _want _her with me, but I couldn't kid myself. I needed to get my life under control before I took on the responsibility of another life. Of course, I should have thought about this a couple of years ago when I was walking down the tacky aisle at the broken-down wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

But the look in her eyes. It was like staring into Charlie's all over again. They were captivating, alluring even. Sighing, I picked up my daughter and quickly hurried back into the nursery. I tucked her haphazardly into her mess of blankets, ignoring her confused looks, and quickly hurried back into our bedroom.

It had all worked out so perfectly. Charlie had gotten home from work (he was an intern to the Chief of Police) very late and, not wanting to disturb me, he had spent the night on the sofa. I sat down on the creaky bed, closing my eyes for a second. _This is reckless_, I thought to myself, _You're running from your problems like you always have. _

I told myself this repeatedly, begging sleep to come so that I could wake up and think rationally. It was the town, after all, that was driving me crazy. _Forks._ What a disgusting place. If only I had chosen to attend college somewhere warm, like back home in southern California. Then I would have never met Charlie, never dropped out my freshman year, and never had Bella. But having Bella was the one thing that I had done right these last couple of years. Isabella was the only thing that had anchored me to Forks for so long. Without her, I would probably be in Maui right now.

5 a.m. found me on the corner of Spartan Avenue in my old rain poncho and a torn pair of jeans. I had packed lightly, not wanting to strip Charlie of everything that he had depended on. I had taken a week's supply of Pop-tarts, half of my wardrobe, and a CD that Charlie had made me while we were still dating. I had taken a decrepit photo album of my few friends here in Forks.

Oh, and I had taken Bella.

--END--

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	3. 2nd Place: Scream It Loud

**2nd Place** – _AT THE GATES OF HEAVEN_

By: Scream It Loud

**Contest Host Review:**

This interpretation of Emmett's transformation was truly superb. I have not encountered many fanfics from Emmett's POV, let alone well written ones, but Scream It Loud really made Emmett's true down-to-earth goodness shine through without making him look like a brainless idiot (unlike some other fics on this site, cough). But anyway, it was wonderfully written. Emmett's perception of events, the description…it was all pulled together so wonderfully!

Congratulations Scream It Loud!!!

**--------------------------------------**

**At the Gates of Heaven**

**By: Scream It Loud**

**Summary: ****This is my story of Emmett's transformation, explaining what I think his human life might've been like all the way to his first sight of Carlisle (or God). If you haven't read the ****Twilight outtakes**** on ****Stephenie Meyer****'s site--namely "Emmett and the Bear"--then you'll be entirely lost. If you have, then points to you! Enjoy!**

He wasn't sure how long he'd been hiking, or where this trial even led. He was just happy to get out of the house. The arguing was becoming too much: He made the decision four years ago to drop out of high school, but his parents—mainly his dad—still haven't gotten over it. Now being twenty-two, it's too late to go back, even if he wanted to. Public education never held much interest for him—he always knew there was more to learn than what was written in the text books at any school in the country.

But his parents thought differently.

His dad, a factory worker like his dad and his dad's dad, thought that his only son would be the one to break the pattern, be the only man in the family to actually make something of himself. His son would go to college, become a lawyer, and then a great politician, bringing dignity back into the family name.

But he never anticipated having a son like this one.

His son dropped of high school his senior year, spending the next four years of his life working at the local grocery store, still living at home. Where did he go wrong? Where did he fail as a father?

But the one truth that his son would never tell him was that he was _needed _at home. With his father working all day at the factory, someone needed to stay home and help his mother take care of his three-month-old twin sisters. They didn't live near any of his mother's family and she didn't have any friends in the neighborhood to help her, so she relied on her son to help.

Though he was always willing to help his mom, he would never tell his dad that he was doing woman's work. He was already always yelled at for not making a better man of himself, he didn't need this on top of it.

Which was why he wanted out of the house.

He went on trips like these often, but it wasn't always hiking. Sometimes he'll catch some of the high school boys playing football down the block and he'd join them; other times he would just go outside and run, not sure of his destination, just wanting a long journey.

Today, his escape was hiking. He woke up this morning before the sun did, putting on his hiking boots he bought the day before, packing a day's worth of food in a large red backpack he found in the hall closet, then leaving a note, telling his mom not to worry. He was sure his dad wouldn't even care.

Now it was noon , if not later, and he had no idea where he was. But that didn't matter. Maybe this was his way out, his way out of the hole he dug for himself, his way out of his father's ridicule.

Then he heard a rustling to his left, and it stopped his feet and thoughts cold.

He turned slowly to the source of the sound, bracing himself for what he might see, but the uncountable large bushes were perfectly still. For a fleeting second, he wondered if maybe someone was hiding behind them, trying to scare him. But that wasn't possible—no one would come up here. He was the only one brave enough (some would say stupid enough) to come up here alone.

So the thing here wasn't a person.

As he watched the bushes, they stood just as still as they were before, but he knew he didn't imagine what he heard—there was something in those bushes.

Slowly, he bent down, keeping his eyes on the bushes, to pick up a rock that was lying by his foot. Being as quiet as he could, he threw the rock at the bush, trying to stir whatever was hiding.

He immediately regretted that decision.

The bushes shook again, more violently this time. Still kneeling on the ground, he froze instantly, watching as a large brown grizzly bear immerged, growling fiercely.

All thoughts fled from his mind for a split second, until he finally understood what was going on: he was being attacked.

The bear looked around for a moment, confused as to what disturbed him. Then his eyes locked on a dark figure close to the ground, obviously afraid and weaker than he. Not a difficult prey.

Just as the bear threw a paw at him, he jumped backwards, trying to get out of the way. He didn't completely succeed—he had a huge gash down his left side from the dangerously sharp claws.

He stood up instantly, bracing himself for a fight. He knew he would never win, but he wasn't going to die easily. The bear lowered itself back down on all fours, swaying as it progressed to its lunch. Once it was close enough, it jumped to its back legs, roaring madly. It took another swipe at the man in front of him, this time getting his face, causing him to yell out in pain and stagger backwards, holding his face, swearing.

The bear was done playing with its food—it has had nothing to eat for two days and this slab of meat in front of him was too tempting.

The bear lunged for him, taking him down easily. Mustering all the strength he could, he pulled his arms up and tried to push the furry weight off of him, fighting back. The bear retaliated by swiping at him again, causing blood to seep from his nose to his mouth.

The bear bit his arm, taking a chunk of the skin and muscle out, and more crimson blood spilled.

He knew he wouldn't live much longer—he was losing too much blood. Wasn't there something in the paper a couple weeks ago about bear attacks? They were just coming out of hibernation, so they were much more irritable. No sane person would cross paths with one. But no one had ever called him sane, so he didn't count that. But there was something in the article about the death rate of bear attacks—the statistics of living in this situation didn't agree with him.

He was never one to abide by numbers, but he couldn't ignore them. Knowing that he was going to die inevitably, he shut down all of his defenses and waited for death, hoping it would come quickly.

Somewhere in his subconscious, he realized that he had left a note for his mother, saying he would come home fine. When they find his body—or what was left of it—it would definitely show that he was far from fine. He felt guilty for telling his mom he would come back to her and his sisters safely when he couldn't guarantee it.

But then he realized that this was his way out he asked for, _prayed_ for. He never really thought of himself as a Christian, but he did know there was a higher power up there somewhere. And, whoever it was, they listened to him. They didn't give him the escape he had in mind, but it was as good as gold to him. No matter how it went, he knew that the regret for his choices would be over, and he would be in a better place.

But what if he didn't go to a better place? Surely, whatever it was out there, they would have mercy on a dying man.

Suddenly, the weight was off of him, and he felt the ground leave his back. He forced his eyes open groggily, trying to figure out what was happening. He realized there were arms under him, supporting him, but they didn't feel like arms—they felt more like ice. He turned his head ever so slightly, seeing as that was as much he could move it anyway, and looked over to the person beside him.

If his heart was strong enough to pump blood at all after his last excursion, it would definitely stop at the sight of this woman.

She was tall, with long legs and long, golden blonde hair. Her pale skin and beautiful features showed that she wasn't human—wasn't from this _planet_. She was, without a doubt, an angel. Maybe he was going to a better place, after all . . .

She looked into his eyes, her honey-gold irises soft and caring, but still concerned. She wiped his blood-stained hair out of his face, then looked him over, trying to decide the best way to carry him. She settled on holding him around the waist, throwing his arms and head over her shoulder. She wondered momentarily if this would hurt him, then realized that he would be too unconscious to notice it, anyway.

She watched his eyes as they slowly drifted shut, giving up. She had to get him where he was going, fast.

Running impossibly fast, she took him off the trail and through the woods, up through the mountains until she came upon who she was looking for: her family.

"Rosalie—," the bronze-haired angel asked.

"Not now, Edward." She looked to the blonde angel, setting the dark haired man on the ground. "Can you help him?"

The blonde angel was astonished. "Who is he?"

"_Can you help him_?" she repeated. "There's not much time."

The blonde angel placed his cold hand upon the dying man's face, causing him to stir slightly, then groan with the pain and exertion.

He opened his dark eyes slowly, the bright afternoon sun blinding him. Then he locked eyes with the blonde angel.

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

This man had features just as beautiful as the woman that brought him here. As he looked around he saw another woman and a man, both pale and beautiful. A flair of hope sparked up in his heart. These people were angels, ready to take him in. He looked back into the blonde man's golden eyes, how the sun behind him caught his hair, making him look even more extraordinary. With a start, they dying man realized that this angel in front of him was the God everyone talked about. He truly was a God of mercy.

"Emmett Wh—," he was cut short because of the sudden pain on his side. He closed his eyes, then realized that someone had put some liquid in his wounds, cleaning them. What kind of heaven was this?

"I'm sorry," God said. "This will be over soon."

"Rose, give him some room," the bronze-haired angel said to Emmett's savior.

"I can't let him die," she responded, defiance in her tone.

Die? He was going to die? He guessed that was how he got to where he was going, but she made it sound like a bad thing. Where was he now?

God looked back at Rosalie. "Then what do you want to do?"

Her face was stone, but a flicker of indecision crossed her eyes. She nodded slightly to herself, making up her mind.

"I'll love him. I know I will."

"How can you possibly know this?" the bronze-haired angel—Edward—asked, exasperated.

"I already think I love him. I can't help it," she said, staring into Emmett's face as the blood fled from it. "He cannot die," she said to God.

"Okay," He said, stepping out of the way. He motioned for Rosalie to do the honors.

Her face showed her fear plainly.

"I can't do it," she said, cowering.

"Rose, he has to live," the other, shorter angel said. Her face was kind, but her eyes showed her anxiety for this situation.

"I'm afraid he won't if I do it. I was barely able to bring him up here," she said in a small voice.

God studied her face. "I'll do it," He said bravely.

God and Rosalie bent down beside the dying man on the rocky surface, Rosalie smoothing his matted hair, God bracing himself for what he was planning to do.

"Make it quick, please," Rosalie pleaded. "I don't want to see him in any more pain."

God looked at Rosalie. "He will be in pain."

God's cold hands gripped Emmett's shoulder and head firmly, holding him in place. He knew he would thrash once he finished.

As quickly as He could—but still efficiently—He closed His teeth on Emmett's neck.

Emmett's eyes opened in a flash.

Suddenly hyperaware of everything that was happening, he made note of the raging fire burning through his veins. How could this possibly be heaven? There was no joy in this.

There had to be good in it. He knew he wasn't the perfect person, but he didn't deserve this fate, no one did.

The fire inside of him caused him to shake uncontrollably, flailing his arms and legs all around him. He tried desperately to hold himself still, to not use his last store of energy, but it was too difficult. He let his body do what it may, no matter how painful.

No, this wasn't heaven. It was hell. There was no way to change it now. He would deal with the consequences now, and only hope no one else would do what he did to deserve this.

He was apparently voicing his pain, because a soothing soprano voice said, "Shh, shh. It's okay. You'll be okay."

Was she lying? How could he be okay after this? It made no sense. It was impossible. This torture showed what horrible things awaited him, how much worse they could get.

"I promise. It's okay."

He opened his eyes to glare at whoever was lying to him, but he instead locked eyes with the blonde-haired angel that saved him. What was stopping her from saving him now?

Her cold hand stroked his cheek, now burning from the venom in his veins. "This will all be over. I promise. We will be together. I will take care of you."

He had no reason to trust her, but he had no reason to doubt her, either. He decided to take her word and endure this torture as quietly as he could. He would, no matter how long it lasted or where he ended up, whether it was heaven or hell. If it was heaven, he knew that any angel as beautiful as his one would be there, and he would meet her again; if it was hell, then he knew he could endure it. He could endure anything as long as he had this angel at his side.

--END--

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	4. 1st Place: Marie Masen

**1st Place** – _IRREVOCABLE_

By: Marie Masen

**Contest Host Review:**

Wonderfully written. Although Carlisle describes these events in New Moon, to see them come to pass from Carlisle's POV and through Marie's writing, really gives them dimension. What a wonderful fic. Amazing job of keeping Carlisle in character. The momentum, the dialogue, the description were all magnificent

Congratulations Marie Masen!!!

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Irrevocable

By Marie J. Masen

Carlisle's point of view, 1918

I rounded the corner, making sure that I was walking away from the setting sun and into the gathering dusk. A streetlight flickered on above me, forcing me to walk closer to the buildings on the sidewalk, deeper into the shadows. Even the dim, unnatural light would cast sparkles off my skin, making me stand out in the gathering twilight, and revealing me for the monster I was. I could already smell the disease and death emanating from the hospital; the stench of infected blood was repulsive, even to my vampire senses.

It was difficult to keep myself from being exposed, now more than ever. I truly resented myself for having to go home at daybreak, imprisoning myself and waiting out the daylight hours, mourning the countless lives I could be saving. The feeling of helplessness was unbearable as I waited, the death toll creeping upwards with every minute. But I knew that I, and my patients, must be thankful for the work I could do. I cannot help but think… what if I hadn't been changed? Who would be taking my place in the hospital? Would there be another doctor willing to take the night shift if I were not here? I walked on, my pace quickening, my footfalls silent in the deserted street. If I saved someone's life today, would that make it worth being immortal? If I made it possible for one more person to walk out of the hospital – healthy - with a future, another chance at life…something I would never have… If someone survived because of me, would that make it worth the centuries of pain, the solitude and loneliness, the self- denial I had been forced into? And if I could, eventually, save as many lives as I had taken, could I be forgiven for being the monster I was, regardless of the fact that it was not my fault I had been changed?

I winced as the dreary, colorless hospital came into view, my instincts telling me to turn away from the disease, contamination, and death. The building was too small, a washed- out grey color, the paint chipping, the windows cracked. With every penny of the budget going to medicine and research, we couldn't afford to pay for renovations, and I couldn't afford to answer the questions that would inevitably come up if I donated the money I'd collected during my time in Italy.

I pushed through the door at the employee entrance, the frame groaning as it spun to let me through. The chair behind the secretary's desk was empty; she was probably running an errand for one of the doctors. I found the sign-in clipboard and quickly added my name to the list of weary signatures.

Sounds of the sick, of overworked doctors discussing cases, and monitors beeping, flooded my ears. I worked to block out the suffering, forcing myself to accept the fact that not even I could help all those in need in one night.

I found Dr. Giorno, who had the shift before mine, in the locker room preparing to leave. His aging face was lined with sadness and despair, and I knew that by the time I left, my pale face would be creased with the same grief and anxiety.

"How are they?" the anguish, worry, despair, that I was feeling manifested itself through my voice. Dr. Giorno and I were responsible for the patients in the lower section of the west wing. It was the part of the hospital with the worst cases, the patients who had the least chances of surviving. He sighed, keeping his back to me as he fidgeted with his locker.

"Agatha is doing better, but her temperature has been up and down in the past few hours. Victor and Mary Clerval are stable; they probably won't need much attention tonight…. Elizabeth and Edward are the worst right now. His condition is deteriorating quickly, and she's ruining her chances by worrying over him." He cleared his throat. "I already said goodbye to them before I left. I don't know if they'll still be here in the morning." My breathing stopped, I could feel my heart sinking in despair. It had been a mistake, getting so attached to them, and now I'd have to suffer the consequences. Dr. Giorni turned to look at me, sadness and pity plain in his eyes, and I forced myself to move, breathe, blink, attempting to look human. He cleared his throat again, picking up his bag and stepping out of the room. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he walked out.

It took me a moment to clear my brain and start breathing again, pushing the stagnant air in and out of my body, past the lump in my throat. Squaring my shoulders, I walked out of the locker room, going straight to room W103, where Elizabeth and Edward Masen were lucky to have the tiny room to themselves. Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open as I walked in; her head, facing Edward even as she rested, searched for signs of life in her son's body. His eyes were closed in a fitful sleep, his chest rising and falling, his breathing shallow as his body fought the fever. Once she was convinced that he was still alive, she turned to me, her bottomless emerald eyes locking on my ocher ones. I could tell immediately that she had gotten worse. We both knew that she had only hours left. Her fingers twitched, she raised her hand weakly, and I quickly gave her my hand. Her body was burning hot, and I could detect the weak pulsing of blood behind her skin. Yet when her fingers closed around mine, her grip was strong, and I wondered how she could muster up so much strength when her body was so weak.

"Carlisle," she choked. I could see pain, desolation, agony, conflict in the depths of her eyes, but most of all, there was intense worry, and I knew it was for her only son. Both our eyes turned to Edward, his face covered in a sheen layer of sweat as the flu ravaged his dying body. "Save him!" she commanded, her voice cracking. I looked at her face, the pallid skin, bronze hair, the determined set of her lips – all contained a unique beauty, even minutes from death.

"I'll do everything in my power," I assured her, gently rubbing my thumb across her palm to soothe her. I could feel her temperature rising slowly.

"You must," she croaked, tightening her grip on my arm. Her unwavering eyes locked into mine again, and I felt like she was looking right into my soul, reading all the thoughts going through my mind. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." Her voice rose, determined, but her already shallow breathing became sporadic, and her eyes closed as she lost consciousness. I held her hands as her breathing slowed, gliding my cold skin against her feverish arms to comfort her. I could feel her slipping away slowly, until eventually, she stopped breathing, and her arms became limp as I held them. I stared at her face, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I turned to look at Edward, tossing restlessly in is sleep, and my grief doubled. He had no one left now. Both his parents were gone, and even if he could survive, he had no future to look forward to. His mother's final words rang in my head, my thoughts swirling. How could she have known what I was? _Had_ she known? And could she really have wanted me to make her son a monster? Did she think it was easier never to die than to suffer a lonely, painful death? I stood, grief weighing down on my shoulders, sorrow constricting the air in my lungs, and lifted her lifeless body onto a cart, rolling her through the hospital to the morgue, where I whispered a final goodbye before leaving her. She would be buried hastily, without ceremony, and the world would go on without her. I returned to the west wing, checking each of my other patients methodically as I tried to make sense of the maelstrom in my mind.

How could I do to Edward what had been done to me, so many years ago? How could I force him into this unnatural existence, when I resented the vampire who had decided to change me? Yet it had been his mother's dying wish. Was it right for her to have made this choice for her son? How could anyone, faced with the decision of immortality, make such an irrevocable choice? It was impossible. And to have to decide for someone else, for someone whom you loved more than yourself? I completed the doctor's note for Victor Clerval, moving on to examine his sleeping wife.

Elizabeth had been sick, dying, almost delirious with worry over her son; yet she had asked _me_. Her words rang in my ears. _You must do everything in _your_ power._ How had she known? Could she really have suspected me to be able to make her son immortal, a monster? What kind of mother would want that for her son? For him to be immortal, to never leave the face of this earth, to never join her? Could she really want me to do that to him? I left the Clervals' room and headed down the dimly lit hallway to check on my last patient.

The image of Elizabeth's face, dead, was etched behind my eyelids. She had not looked peaceful. Even in death, she was worried about her son. It had been her dying wish. But could that justify what I would do to Edward, in his eyes? Going through the pain of the transformation, knowing that he would have to kill to survive. How could he not hate me after he discovered what I had done to him?

Yet at the same time, I could not keep the other thoughts from entering my mind. I was dying of loneliness. What I wouldn't give to have just one other vampire with whom I would not have to pretend, someone who I could become attached to without having to worry about them knowing what I was? It was so selfish of me, but the thought of having someone who understood me was too tempting.

I found myself striding back towards room W103 to check on Edward. The idea of creating a companion for myself was like a weed, spreading through my mind and suffocating my other thoughts. If I was going to eventually change someone for myself, then it might as well be the one who was dying anyway. The dying young man whose life was being taken away before he had a chance to do anything with it. The boy whose mother had begged me to keep him alive. But there was still so much doubt, so much that could go wrong. I had not tasted human blood in centuries. Would I be able to restrain myself, once I had started? If he survived the transformation, would he hate me for doing this to him? How could he not? And on the slim chance that he would forgive me for fulfilling his mother's dying wish, would he agree to my vegetarian lifestyle? Or would he leave me and go off on his own? He had only minutes left, and I could feel him begging to slip away. Either way, I knew his heart would stop beating soon. I had little time to act left, yet the choice I would make was irrevocable. I found myself moving towards his cot, lifting him gently and carrying him swiftly through the gloomy hallways and towards the back exit.

I could feel his hot, limp body in my arms, his head lolling into my stone chest, his pulse slowing with every breath he took. A cool breeze wafted against my cheeks, blowing gently through his bronze hair as I walked out onto the empty street. I could sense the venom pooling in my mouth. And still I stood, undecided. I glanced up at the midnight sky, a million stars winking back at me. I knew that the stars were truly eternal, otherworldly, more immortal than even I was. They had been created long before I had, and would continue to shine after I was gone, unaffected by my extended presence on earth. This knowledge brought a quiet serenity to my mind. The raging battle in my mind died down, one side standing victorious. I knew what I had to do.

I ran.

--END--

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(Also, Marie, your banner for this story will be on my profile shortly. Congrats! ^_^)


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